In Passing
by HouJie
Summary: “There’s something absolutely terrible about being lonely. Not just having no one to go to when you’re sad, but having no one to care when you’re happy.” Just a contemplative piece by Hermione. PG-13 for subject matter.


Summary: "There's something absolutely terrible about being lonely. Not just having no one to go to when you're sad, but having no one to care when you're happy." Just a contemplative piece by Hermione.

A/N: Hey everybody! ::scratches head:: Well, I'm not so such why I did this little one-shot, but...it just came to me, and I had to write it. Please enjoy, and while you're at it, review!

In Passing

"_I shall pass through this life but once. __Any good, therefore, that I can do, o__r any kindness I can show to any fellow creature, l__et me do it now. __Let me not defer or neglect it, f__or I shall not pass this way again." _

--Etienne de Grellet

I leaned against the heavy wooden door, relying on my weight to push it open.

_I haven't been here in a while_, I thought guiltily. Then I stepped smack into a puddle.

_I haven't been here in a _long_ while_, I thought irritably. _I forgot to waterproof my shoes._

"Merry Christmas, Myrtle," I called out cheerfully, despite that my left foot was now a soggy mess.

I paused for a moment when everything was silent. Myrtle was almost always here, if not wailing and generally making sure that everything in her vicinity was soaked, then somewhere in the u-bend, but I'm not sure what she does there.

I've never asked.

But I have a nagging feeling that I should.

When I didn't hear splashing or wailing answering my call, I sighed loudly and made to exit.

"Merry? What's 'merry' about it?"

I turned back around and made my way to her favorite stall, both a little disappointed that she had decided to answer me and disappointed in myself for being disappointed in the first place.

Her sullen face greeted me when I opened the grey stall door carefully, not wanting to push it through her face and get her upset, especially not when this was supposed to be a visit to cheer her up.

Especially not when I had forgotten to waterproof my robes as well.

"Oh, I don't know," I said conversationally. "Just the holidays and all. Sorry I haven't been here in a while." Well...partially sorry. For her sake, anyway.

"You never come just to visit," she said in a sulky tone.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, hoping I sounded genuine. Hoping that I really _was_ genuine. "I brought you something."

"What?" Myrtle asked in the same sulky tone as before, but now she sounded slightly interested.

I already had my gift in my hands, and I had been gripping it harder than I thought. The metal engravings from the frame had worked itself into my flesh. The imprints would be hanging around for a while.

"A picture," I said, holding it up for her inspection. Although there wasn't much light in the dingy bathroom, the magical polish I had used on the picture frame shone and sparkled as though in full sun. Ron, Harry and myself grinned up from the photo, with Ron waving enthusiastically, Harry's amused, though slightly reserved face, and, well, me, hugging a thick book which had _Hogwarts, A History_ emblazoned across the front.

"This way you won't forget us during the holidays," I added jokingly.

"I never forget anything," she said, half-defensive, half-proud. Then her face became sulky again. "Besides, _they_ never come to see me."

I kept my smile up. "Oh, you know them," I said, as though she had known them for years. (Though in a way, she had.) "They're afraid you'd tease them about being in a girl's bathroom. And that everyone else would, too. You know how boys are."

"Yeah, I do," she said, almost eagerly. I doubt she's ever talked to another girl(or anybody, for that matter) about boys.

Then again, it's not exactly a daily top for me, either.

I wonder if she even...

I stopped my thoughts at that point, and added it to the list of things I've never asked Myrtle about.

Only this time, I didn't feel guilty about it.

"Maybe you could go and visit them?" I suggested, and I knew that Ron and Harry would most likely kill me for this. Or at least, they would threaten to, but in a joking manner.

Well, serves them right. Maybe then I goad them into studying more diligently with me.

But they do try, and sometimes I feel it's only for my sake.

I'm always amazed at that.

Aside from family(and even then, it's really only the adults that do anything solely for me...less can be said for my cousins), I don't trust very many people when they do things for me.

But when it's Ron or Harry, I don't feel distrust...just...warm.

I wonder if I made Myrtle feel anything like that.

I hope so.

I think she's been cold long enough.

There's something absolutely terrible about being lonely. Not just having no one to console you when you're sad, but having no one to care when you're happy.

Perhaps not no one. I had my parents, and family, but that's just...set apart. They're polite about it, but they don't share my interests. When I got an award for an essay or competition, they were happy for me, but only listened politely when I went on about what it was like.

Sometimes I wonder if they were sick about hearing my awards as well as everyone else I knew.

I know that after a while, I certainly was.

Briefly I wondered if Myrtle still had family, then filed it away as an issue that could be breached later.

Later, when I could absolutely sure it wouldn't lead to me being drenched.

Or, later when I had Ron and Harry with me.

What can I say? Misery loves company. Perhaps another reason why Myrtle is so depressing.

"I don't know," she said warily, watery eyes darting between me and my gift.

But I could tell she wanted to be convinced.

"Oh, come on," I chided. "If only for their sake."

_If only for yours, _I thought silently.

"Well, I suppose..." she began hesitantly.

"Great!" I said, grinning as madly as Ron. "Maybe during break? I could gather them in the Gryffindor common room on Christmas Eve and we can decorate the tree! I don't suppose you like singing?"

She seemed taken aback by my rush of energy, but I could see the faint beginnings of a smile.

"I know you're probably busy," I said, not wanting to make this look like a pity-venture(though it rather was), "but if you could just stop by..."

"I suppose..." she repeated, but looked a lot less hesitant.

"Good. Well, I'll see you then!" I said, still grinning. I fought the urge to wave. Instead, I placed the picture frame on Myrtle's toilet, positioning it so she could see it, and made to leave.

"Merry Christmas," Myrtle blurted out, and then suddenly looked embarrassed.

But I smiled as though nothing were strange. "Merry Christmas!" I replied.

Myrtle smiled. I smiled genuinely back, waving (though nowhere near as enthusiastically as Ron) as I walked away.

I understand now why I disliked Myrtle when I met her. Not just that she was very trying, and rather depressing to be around, but that she reminded me of who I was before I became friends with Ron and Harry.

And that was more depressing than anything else to me.

It scared me as well.

What if she pulled me back into my old mindset?

What if, by associating myself with her, I was once again working my way into the world of outcasts? Bad to be alone; even worse to be abandoned.

Right now I can say how ashamed I am that I was like that, but back then, I could only defend myself.

I felt pity for her then, but that hadn't been enough for me to step in and try to change things.

For all that I've attempted to do with S.P.E.W., I should have known that it was a lost cause from the start. The house-elves didn't want to be helped. And although I felt pity for them, I couldn't understand them. Dobby confused me in particular.

But I understand Myrtle.

I understand that the more I try to help her, the more she will reject me until the point she knows I'm sincere. I had known Ron and Harry were sincere right after the troll incident.

It surprised me a little that Myrtle opened up so quickly to me after the simple gesture of a picture.

But then, she's been lonely for a very long time.

A few years ago I would have been angry at her for it. Her, and everyone else who even slightly resembled the me I used to be. So angry at all of them. And frustrated.

"Why don't you just get up and do something about it? If you don't have friends, then _make_ some, damn it!" I wanted to shout at them all.

But I remember now.

I remember how hard it is.

When everyone expects you to be independent and stuck-up then that's what you become.

When they figure that you don't want to talk to them, you don't bother trying.

You just...don't. Or can't. It's a fine line.

So much easier to deal with the "what ifs?" and the loneliness you know than to try to plunge into a world where you might just shatter into pieces when you get rejected more times than you can handle.

Better to sit tight, keep your head low and your mouth shut.

Be social on your own terms.

Right.

That's why it hit me so hard when Ron and Harry stopped talking to me in Third Year. It proved I had been wrong to trust them. Wrong to open myself to them, to make myself vulnerable.

How dare they show me that I was wrong.

How dare they leave me alone.

How dare they....I depended on them.

I...needed them.

Who else could I fall back on without fear that they'd refuse to help me?

What else could I fall back on as sturdy as our friendship together? School? My books? Someone else's words stamped out on paper?

I threw myself into my books because it was the only thing I could throw myself into. Even as a child(well, a younger child) sports and clubs held no appeal to me, and it even scared me to put myself in a position of possible confrontation with people who teased me about my grades daily in classes.

Ron and Harry tease me about it all the time, but without malice, and at the same time, I think they (however grudgingly) admire me for it. Or is that just me being conceited?

In school I didn't have very many friends. Who am I kidding? I had _no_ friends. I had acquaintances, ones who I would say hello to in class and work well with on projects, but I had no real friends.

When grades came out on tests I dreaded them, because the teacher always read out my name first. And then everyone would roll their eyes, and say "the Brainiac's done it again" or something to that equivalent. Then they would chatter excitedly about their own grades, congratulating or consoling each other, and I would simply sit there.

I had thought about failing on purpose, just once, but I was too afraid of what my teacher would think of me. Of what my parents would think of me. I guessed that my failing one test would not change the opinions of everyone around me, though it would give them some new material to work with.

I remember...not the exact day, but not too long before I got my Hogwarts letter, that I was drying the dishes and stewing about how I was not going to let anybody get to me at school. I was going to be smart for myself and who cared what everyone else thought of me?

I had to wonder though...like always...whether anyone would really care if I didn't show up.

I wondered...whether anyone would care if I ever got hurt...

Sprained an ankle...

Broken an arm...

Lost my life...

_They would only care if it got them out of school for your funeral, _a voice snickered in my head.

_Shut up_, I thought, starting to dry the utensils

_You know it's true. You know that the only life you have is in this house, and that you'll be absolutely miserable at school._

_Go away._

_Or what? You'll read a book on psychology and banish me with your intelligence?_

I ignored the voice this time. It didn't go away.

_You can't get to me. You can't make me leave. I'm a part of you._

I was appalled. This hateful, taunting voice...a part of me?

_As if you didn't know._

_Don't you find it funny? Even _you_ hate you!_

_I only hate _you

_Where'd you think I came from, genius? _

_Isn't that a beautiful knife? So sharp._

_It feels nice doesn't it? When it's trailing your skin? Can you imagine what it's like with a little more pressure?_

_Blood gushes with your pulse._

..._there's a scientific term for that._

_Who cares? It feels nice, doesn't it? _

_That's such a small cut. _

_Come on, over achiever, you can make it bigger. _

_It feels so warm. Don't you feel alive? Don't tell me that you're scared now._

_The knife is cold. Make it warm. _

I don't even know what I was thinking. I probably wasn't. I dropped everything and ran to the first aid kit in my bathroom. I spent the next hour getting rid of evidence. I don't think I've ever been gladder that all my clothes look alike.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself cry.

When I got to the Hogwarts library, the first thing I looked up was how to get rid of scars. But I'll never forget where they were. Where they _are_.

I've never felt completely at ease with knives since, though I use a knife to carefully cut up all my food at Hogwarts because it irks Ron. Ron's just not Ron unless he's a little irked about something.

It hadn't occurred to me until much later after we met just how lonely the three of us were. Ron had always lived in the shadow of his brothers, and it's not too hard for me to imagine that every friend he's had has probably adored Ron's brothers(though perhaps not Percy) over Ron for their disregard for rules, something that Ron normally lacks until his emotions get really riled up.

Harry doesn't talk about his home life much. When he's caught off guard, he'll say something about the Dursleys, then look embarrassed, as though he shouldn't have said anything. From what I've heard and seen of them, I'm surprised that Harry hasn't come off hating Muggles.

At least I had my family to fall back on when my social abilities fell short.

In all of us, trust is slightly guarded.

How alike we all are.

I wonder if Ron or Harry ever thought about running from it all...?

No. I guess not. I still highly believe in their courage. And I've seen it. They're Gryffindors, after all.

Then again, so am I.

But my cowardice had saved me then.

Next time you see a person walking on the outskirts of the social circle, say "hi" to them. Even if it's just in passing.

Because who knows? It might be the last time you pass by them, ever again.

A/N: Suicide is nothing to joke about. It's something sad and terrible, and I hope none of you have ever had a serious run-in with it. And I'm sorry if I mucked up the seriousness by making it so brief. Anyway, read and review please. But more importantly, please listen to the last few sentences? You have no idea how much friends make life easier. Or at least worthwhile.


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